


Kiss me | Prompt number 13

by Nats_North_by_North



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, pre Battle of Scarif fluff, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 03:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9104950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nats_North_by_North/pseuds/Nats_North_by_North
Summary: Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso share a tender moment before heading into battle on Scarif.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by a prompt I found on Tumblr. Kiss me, the given situation and your choice of pairing: et voila, and you have a lil fic!

Kiss me | Prompt number 13

A certain silence befalls men when they await battle; it is not subtle and crafted from mutual cause and comfort, but sobering. It chills them all, one by one, beads them with cold sweat and vacant eyes. And it makes sense, it does—. Who but savages charges the field with eager demeanor? Who yearns to die? ; for they had gone to do just that.

The stale air surrounding them, as ubiquitous as charged speech at council meetings tasted already of blood in its unadulterated form— and Cassian sighed, much to the astonishment of one of the men closest to him. But he lifted but a brow before craning his head to the other side. Still silent, but now aware. Still sweating, but focused.  

 

It was perhaps the most defining interaction Cassian could have had with one of the rebels. It was neither kinship nor friendship, and the captain appreciated the suggestive silver of inquisition that had shadowed the man's features, if only for a second. For they meant care, trust, reliance— all good things men and women needed to perform on the battlefield in perfect unison.  

But a sigh was a sigh, and no amount of encouraging motions would take away from the distinct inertia in Cassian's non verbal exclamation.    
Their chances were slim, Cassian didn't need K to give him those stats to make it clear. The captain deduced them alone as he studied the leather clad shoulder of Jyn Erso, feathered off to his right and tinkering with the barrel of her stolen blaster. Oh, she was a criminal indeed, that one. But he had come to appreciate her dominant personality and rugged gun for hire self, what with her morals of steel that openly gnawed at him, only further juxtaposing her position among Cassian's limited range of trusted ally's. —what perhaps jarred him from his more somber tirade of thoughts was that he did trust her; so much so that he would follow her into battle without as much as thinking twice.  

She was right. Jyn had made that very clear at the failed council meeting— without immediate action, all the bloodshed and losses accounted for under the Alliance's cap would have been for naught; and the iron conviction that had pushed young Cassian from the gender age of six, to rebel, would mean nothing— it would all mean jack shit, nada, нет, niente.  But it didn't have to end that way. Cassian needn't throw away his life's efforts to make a change— Jyn had shown him that. And now, even though the chances were tough, hell, they were fucking negative, he found himself not caring. Because when he'd die today, he'd be able to forgive himself for good—, doing right by the alliance, for the cause and /himself/. 

  He brushes past the man to his left and touches his callous hand to the small grove of leather formed upon the armor that dressed Erso's daughter: she shook, tense and coiled to maximum reflexes with the surprised snapping of head in his direction.  

"What, Cassian?" She exclaims before fully twisting her body to face his.  

"We need to talk." The captain motioned for the makeshift, re-functioned, but most importantly, empty galley to their side, where he pulled her into.

 

  "Jyn Erso." 

And there are a landslide of intentions hidden behind those two words. He can't for his life decipher which one of them he truly aimed for, only knowing that he will never forget those seven letters, not until the afterlife strips him of all consciousness; not even then, does he really believe he'll manage to erase her, she'd all but etched herself onto the back of his eyelids.

  "Andor?" She replies, forcing a smile he knows is filled with a myriad of things. Anger, trust, fear— but also hope. Let Cassian tell you that Jyn Erso instilled those four, vital letters in the hearts of forty men that day. Hope. Hope or Jyn Erso, it was synonymous anyway.

  "Have you come to tell me our chances? If so, spare me your—"    
He silences her with the careful touch of his finger to his lips, and she slips a meter closer with the turbulence that hits the aircraft.

 He stands opposite her, intentionally leaning against the wall with his eyes wide open and focused on Erso.  He says nothing for a minute, until his hand reaches out to grab hers and she comes closer.  

"The probability of our survival is no longer a concern of mine, Jyn." Cassian speaks with the kind of conviction he'd lacked in recent years. 

"I am not afraid."

Her grip on his wrist tightens; he supposes, in her silence, she supports his statement.  

Eyes cross and clamber for seconds that feel like eternities. She pulls a grimace, halfway caught between bemusement and fondness of the depth of galaxies, and it bewitches him just enough to move a little closer, and into the regions of her comfort zone.  

She doesn't budge an inch yet neither encourages him to come closer either, and so they remain in each other's orbiting range for perhaps a minute more than what would be considered comfortable.  

Bodhi informs them of their ETA in passing, yet they stare on, perhaps mapping out each other's features one last, crystal clear time, like they hadn't memorized each flinch and batting of lids already.

  Eventually, Jyn breaks the silence.

"I am— afraid, that is.  —but not enough to admit to you."  "

I guess I won't tell me then."  

"I guess you won't."  

She steps closer, and this time, her fingers actively seek out his, entwining their hands for one short second, before she reaches for the collar of his jacket.

  "Cassian Andor."  

"Jyn Erso?"

  "Is this not the part where you kiss me?"

  "I figured I'd let you call the shot— you're the messenger after all." 

  "Is that so? Well in that case, I have elected to inform you that you should ki—"  
  And kiss her, he did.


End file.
